Life's Wine
by Aspen-SiredBySpike
Summary: In 1929, Edward begins his rebellious stage only to be met with the challenge of a lifetime when he comes across someone very startling, yet at the same time, more intriguing than ever before. Will he get the gift of her life's wine, or will he refrain?
1. An Invitation

**A/N: This is the first part of a Halloweenesque two shot that take's place during Edward's rebelious stage back in 1929. The second part should be up soon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Twilight_ or any of the characters.**

* * *

**Life's Wine**

The low buzz of voices flooded through the refined ballroom, my mind quickly becoming overwhelmed with trying to distinguish which were real, and which were the scandalous, secretive thoughts of the many aristocratic guests that surrounded me, filling the quite spacious room to it's capacity. The soft notes of a grand piano glided throughout the ballroom, the thick air convulsing and contracting slightly with each set of melodious chords.

It was clear that the atmosphere was supposed to be comforting and cheerful; a right out mood for any spectacular party, what with the extremely elaborate décor.

A couple of entertainers were stationed at each entrance, blowing fire and swallowing swords, accompanied by a guard or two. Their simple tricks seemed to appease many of the people who converged around them, even though they did nothing for me.

Men on stilts were tromping over the crowd, taking extra caution not to step on the hoard of people down below. Their pointed hats just fell short of hitting the many chrome and sapphire aluminum ringed chains that hung in ornate patterns, creating a thin lattice, it's massive gaps letting the many wonders above the guests heads become an accentuated part of the layout.

High up above the swarm of gasping bluebloods, colorfully dressed acrobats swayed meticulously on swings, making a dashing leap here, or a turn there, all the while making sure not even to graze the magnificent chandelier that was suspended in the middle of the artfully painted ceiling, lighting up the room with what had to be at least a hundred candles; their glow bringing a seductive and sensuous feeling to all that stood within it's waxen glow.

Some of the people we dancing gracefully in the center of the room, the sound of their heels and the occasional cane tapped out a symphonic tune as they traipsed around on the mosaic-like floor.

Out of all of the activities happening around me, I couldn't bring myself to watch any one of them for a prolonged amount of time, and I was even farther away from partaking in one of them. No, I was here solely because I was invited and in this day in age, a gentleman never declines an invitation to a gathering.

In attending, I knew what I had to do: shroud myself under the cover of the inconspicuous and keep to myself. No matter how much I felt compelled, nor how much I wanted to, I would not be entertaining the society of nineteen twenty nine with any courtesies tonight.

Letting my ruby eyes gaze over the guests appreciatively, I smirked slight and brought my glass, filled to the brim with a garnet fluid, up to my cold lips, letting the fiery sensation of my own personal concoction drown me in the flames of burning passion.

No matter what blend of wine's the men and women around me tonight sampled, they would never be able to feel the same ecstasy that I do when I drink. Why? Because they actually had a choice over the path their life took.

I was forced into this life, this existence; and up until now I tried not to unleash the beast, I tried sp hard not to be a monster. However, my efforts were in vain. I was a fool to think that I could avoid the nature of what I truly am. It seems that I have spent he last eleven years living a life that was nothing more than an illusion, drawing ever closer but as soon as I reach out to grab it, it disappears through my hands like a miasma of smoke, only to rematerialize again another ten feet away.

Every single attempt was futile. For a couple of months, I knew what I had to do: I had to leave my home so I could live my life without the guilt of betraying my parents, the ones who raised me and taught me about this way of being, hanging over my head.

Disappointment was the dominant emotion that flooded through Esme's eyes when I told her the truth. Her golden orbs glistened with the tears that she could not shed, her head hanging slightly in anguish.

Carlisle, on the other hand, kept a blank face. He just gave me the expected brief speech on how I should think about what I was going to do, but when I declined, he reminded me that their door was always open.

What is the truth, you may be wondering? The truth is that no matter how much I had become accustomed to it, my diet would never be enough to completely satisfy my animalistic needs; whether it was a herd of deer, or a cunning mountain lion, my thirst just would not satiate.

What I really wanted, not to mention needed, was a fresh young human. Their blood ran warmer than any other animal's, making it's call to me so much stronger. Unfortunately, turning my graces upon them was exactly the thing I was taught to avoid doing. The night I had finally come to terms with it was the night I chose to leave their lives… Forever.

Without a word to either of them, I fled the great stone estate just outside of Knightsbridge, refusing to even glance back in fear that the need to stay and force my nature out of the foreground would wash over me, clouding my vision towards this decision.

I ran through the forest at top speed, concentrating on nothing more than the idea- no, fact- that this was the right thing to do, the best thing to do. I kept my pace until I neared the edge of the woods, the trees were beginning to thin and I knew I was near West Wickham now. Attempting to stay inconspicuous, I traveled towards the cobblestone rode that ran right through the middle of the forest before joining the few other streets that ran through the place.

Moving at a human rate, I cautiously stepped out of my sanctuary that was the trees, letting myself be consumed by the orangish glow of the street lamps. Almost immediately my senses piqued, the sweet smell of blood clouding my mind.

However, just because I was going back to my old way of life didn't mean I wasn't going to be cautious. To remain camouflaged with normal society was crucial to my very essence. Standing straight and tall, I strode down the turnpike, displaying proper manners to anyone that crossed my path; a small smile here, an inclination of the head there.

Luckily, no one approached me; that is, of course, until I reached the town square. Just as I stepped into the shadows of a bookshop, a child of no more than ten came running up to me, a small envelope held tightly in his grasp. He came to an abrupt stop a few feet from me, panting slightly to catch his breath. I stayed quiet until he looked up at me, his deep green eyes boring into my own dark caramel ones.

"Excuse me, Sir," He said, straightening up to his full height.

I smirked softly, recognizing the boy's youth as a familiar aspect of what my life had looked like not too long ago.

"Yes, young master?" I responded graciously, seeing just too much of myself in this progeny. There was no chance that he was going to be my victim this night.

"I was asked to give this to you," He continued, holding out the envelope to me. I took it after saying a small thanks. "It's from that lady over there." He went on as he turned around and pointed to a woman not too much older than I. She stood with group of woman that appeared to be around her age, all of them giggling lightly and holding fans in front of their faces to hide a virgin's blush; her mahogany eyes bright from underneath her brow.

Drawing my gaze back to the envelope, I carefully broke the wax seal and lifted the flap. Pulling the letter from its sheath, I unfolded it and let my eyes flow over the spidery writing. Silently, I read:

You are cordially invited to the Grande Masque

Being held on the eve of October the 31st

At the West Wickham Ballroom.

Begins at dusk and ends at first light.

Black tie dress and visage coverage required.

Refolding the invitation, I placed it back in the envelope and flashed my eyes back over to where the group of young ladies had been standing. Only two remained now: one with fiery red curls and an ivory complexion, and the one with the sorrel eyes, her hair the color of chestnuts, gently twisted up into a bun underneath her hat. The brunette caught my eye and blushed before whispering an exit line to her friend behind her fan. They took off into the darkness almost immediately.

Thanking the child once more for the invitation, I moved quietly over to where the women were standing just moments before. Subtly, I sniffed the air, their scents lusciously fragrant like various sugary delights. Attempting to differentiate the one I wanted, I closed my mind and let their natural perfumes overwhelm me. One stood out in particular: a balmy honeyed scent that was sweet as the is long.

Committing it to memory, I took off in the direction the girls had gone, laconically promising that this would be a night that they would never forget.


	2. Man In Black

**A/N: Yeah, I know. Long time no update. So sue me. My other Twilight fics had currently taken over my life. This is chapter two. There should be one or two more chapters. I know that there will be no more than five. Read and review? Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

* * *

Stepping out of the tailor's, I reached a hand up to my face, making sure my mask was securely in place.

After following the women's scents for an uncountable amount of time, I took a detour down a side street, knowing that if I kept on their trail I would most surely go mad. Once I made sure that no one was around, I let out a frustrated growl, my muscles rippling in anxiety. If I didn't drink soon, I was going to lose control.

Panting heavily, I shook my head gently, sweat dripping off of the tips of my abnormally bronze colored hair. It looked even more coppery from under the street lamps, their orange and yellow glow working as allies with my hair's natural pigments.

Sighing, I lifted my head and straightened my posture, attempting to stay sedate until I could find a suitable meal. Strolling precariously down the center of the narrow avenue, I placed my hands into my blazer pockets, glancing ever so often into the dimly lit shop windows.

The shops seemed just the same as on any other passage way, small boutiques selling jewelry and accessories, the occasional bakery with limitless measures of assorted sweets, tiny trinkets outlets. I stopped dead in my tracks, however, in front of a lightly frosted window. If I were still human, it would have been nearly impossible for me to see the items on display through the opaque glass, but to my ultra sensitive eyes, even the finest details were just as sharply defined if they had been out in the open.

The display case held a multitude of children's toys. A miniature carousel spun silently around on a dais, the many colorful horses glistening with the reflection from the golden posts onto their sheen glossy finish. Teddy bears of all different shapes and sizes sat huddled in a pile; ebony blacks blending in with corduroy browns and snowy whites. Spinning tops kept turning at a steady rate, probably from the owner re-pulling the strings every time one stopped. Surrounding the entire display was a scarlet locomotive, grandly chugging its way around a metal rail.

My admiration for these wonderful curios was cut short when a glimmer of black caught my eye. Lifting my stare, my eyes fell upon a wrought iron table farther into the shop; there, perched on top was a mask of the darkest onyx. The outer rim was lined in raven's feather's while the inner section seemed to be as smooth as porcelain.

Pulling my hand out of my right pocket, I glanced at the envelope containing my invitation to the masque. Without a second thought, I stuffed it back into my pocket and glided over to the door, the tiny tinkle of a bell sounding from above my head as I entered.

Wasting no time, I strode over to the table holding the mask. Getting a better look at it, I noticed now that it truly was beautiful.

"Do you like that, Sir?" A decrepit voice asked from behind me. Turning swiftly on my heel, I found that I was facing a wise looking old man. His hair was graying fast and receding to the point where the wrinkles on his papery forehead were very prominent.

"Yes, actually." I replied, turning my attention back to the piece of art. "How much is your going price for it?"

Without answering me straight away, the man hobbled over the table and picked up the mask. Extending it towards me, I took it in my hands. Running my fingertips over the body of the mask, I quickly realized that my earlier assessment had been correct; it was made of porcelain. So fine was the glossy paint that skimmed its surface, lending an ethereal quality to it. Then there were the raven's feather; barely surpassing the outer edge of the mask, the tiny feathers were menacingly gorgeous.

There was no doubt in my mind. I wanted that mask.

Thinking that the quiet shop owner had forgotten my earlier questioned, I looked up and asked again, "What is your price?"

"A fine piece of work indeed. I'm quite glad that a fine young man like yourself happened by and chanced a glance at it. I don't think that the admiration in your eyes right now could be matched by that of any child." The shop keeper replied, a smile appearing on his weary face. "That mask in your hand should truly be placed in an antique shop, not an outlet for toys and trinkets. However, when I saw it on one of my many journeys to Wales, I couldn't help but pick it up."

He looked contemplative for a moment before announcing that I could have it for the amount of six pounds. Six pounds! For a piece of such great artistic value, six pounds surely did no seem like a proper price. No, this man deserved far more.

Taking a small velvet pouch out of my pocket opposite the one that currently contained my invitation, I placed the dark blue material in his hand. He looked surprised by the weight of it and was about to protest when I held up a hand and claimed "You're right, good Sir. This item is not one to be on display in a child's shop. Consider yourself for a moment a dealer of great art and antiques. For this masterpiece, I shall give you the proper price; the one it deserves."

Uncertainly, he offered "Let me wrap it for you."

Like the gentleman that I was, I did not decline his offer.

Soon enough, I was rushing out of the door, the mask sitting soundly in a pouch, similar to the one I had given him, hanging from my hand. The difference was that my pouch held a treasure far more beautiful than my eyes had ever seen. His contained more pounds than his shop probably brought in within a year.

Wasting not a minute, I continued down the street, turning left, and then right, until I reached another shop. The sign that was swinging from the post just off to the side of the door contained a depiction of a thread spool and a pair of sheers. Knowing that this would have to be my next stop, I hurried up the steps and strolled inside.

As soon as I stepped foot across the threshold, I was met by the sight of a man about Carlisle's height, a measuring tape slung across his neck.

Without even waiting for me to give him greetings, he pounced upon me with the tape, his eyes determined like a crow who has just spotted a shiny coin.

"So, what will it be?" He asked, not stopping from his measuring, "A suit, most likely; but what color? Brown? Faun? White? Blue? Oh, I'm sure that green would look marvelous on you. With a black brocade, of course. Then there's the material. Satin is very fashionable right now with the younger men, but as is the heavier ones such as canvas and hide. Yes, I think that a lovely silk suit would do just fine."

When he stepped back, I glared at him harshly. However, he didn't seem bothered by my despondent gaze.

"Actually, Sir," I began, wanting to make it clear that I would be the on in charge, "I wish to have a suit that's already made; I'll just need it tailored to fit my measurements. Black satin, if you have one, with a black brocade and black ties. Something simple, yet elegant. As well, if you're selling any boots, I shall also take a pair, black, in size nine."

"All black?" The tailor asked when I had finished. "That'll look absolutely ghastly."

"To you, perhaps, but the suit is for me. So please, find me what I wish."

The man just stared blankly at me.

"I promise that you'll be paid handsomely."

With the promise of pounds, he scuttled away into the back where he stayed for less than ten moments. When he returned, he had my order and directed me towards the dressing room. I got changed at great speed and was delighted to find that it fit me perfectly.

Stepping back out into the shop with my old clothes, the man asked "Would you like a bag for those, Sir?"

Obviously his tone had altered completely towards me after the sounds of clinking coins rattled through his thick skull.

"No," I said, laying my traveling breeches, jacket, and boots on a bench beside the counter, "You can throw them out if you like."

Silent as a shadow, I stole the mask out of it's pouch and placed it over my face. The tailor gasped at the sight of me, which pleased me immensely. Dropping the pouch to the ground, I tossed him a handful of coins, far less than I had given the tinker, and stepped back out into the darkened street.

After making sure that my mask was in place, I set my course for the West Wickham Ballroom. If I got the same reaction out of the wench who had invited me to the masque that I did out of the tailor, I would be far more than satisfied. After all, my night was just getting started.


End file.
